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by TimmerTams



Series: Hawkeye Café [2]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Incredible Hulk (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 13:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14238765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmerTams/pseuds/TimmerTams
Summary: The man was drinking coffee. Not using a phone. Not reading a book. Not reading a newspaper. Just drinking coffee alone, at a table for four.





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**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MURPHY! I promise... I deliver... sometimes.
> 
> This fic takes place in the same universe as my other fic, [Tonio](https://meolchina.tumblr.com/), but can be read separately.
> 
> Inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/jasongay/status/646301750346010624), and basically co-written by the one and only [peggymarsh](https://peggymarsh.tumblr.com/), as usual.

Rick stared into the depths of his strawberccino. That’s a strawberry frappuccino, but with the words mashed together. Whoever had hastily written the day’s special on the busted chalk board outside the café had decided that portmanteaus are cool. Also available was a pumspilatte.

He’d been mulling over the theoretical taste of a monster energy and frappuccino mix — monsterccino? — when he noticed a lanky man sitting alone at a table for four in the corner of the room, drinking coffee. The notable thing about him was, that was all he was doing. The man was drinking coffee. Not using a phone. Not reading a book. Not reading a newspaper. Just drinking coffee alone, at a table for four.

People around Rick’s table gave him a few glances as he recited these thoughts at his phone.

“Siri, send tweet,” he finalized, and sipped his strawberry frappuccino. Fruit, milk, some… sugar. All the important food groups.

The phone vibrated in less than a minute.

 _I dare you to go talk to him,_ Johnny had tweeted back.

Had Rick been a wiser man, he’d have ignored it. Luckily, he was neither wise, nor by some legal standards a man. Anyway, what choice did he have? _Wouldn’t want the other kids to say I’m chicken,_ he thought, and really, what could go wrong? He considered for a second. The psychopath _could_ kidnap and kill him; but on the other hand… chicken? He _really_ didn’t want to leave that impression on his new… friends? Teammates? Pals? Bros? Comrades? Homies? Gang. His new gang. Club? Group? Posse? On second thought, gang was probably his best option.

So it was decided.

Rick took a last, long drag of his strawberccino and walked over to the man’s table. The dude didn’t even look up as he dropped into an empty chair.

"Hey,” Rick said. “Wanna listen to my soundcloud?"

The man finally looked up from his coffee, eyes focusing on Rick. "Excuse me?"

"My soundcloud! I'm a musician, you see, I mean, I’m just starting out—"

"Do I know you?" The psychopath seemed confused, but that was alright. Rick understood that sometimes your audience really needed to be led to the music before they got, like, the big picture.

"No, I mean, not in this life. Heh. But yeah, if you like my music, you could buy it, and I could like sign a CD, and then when I’m famous you could sell it for like, a ton of money. So, you wanna listen to it?" The man stared at him. "That's a... yes?"

The man sighed, waving his hand in defeat. "Sure, kid, sure."

Rick beamed as he pulled out his phone and selected one of the best songs, in his humble opinion.  Smooth bass, rough vocals, this nice twangy quality from the banjo he’d found in an alley… a good introduction to his music.

“Ok, so, this is a folk song, y’know, my dad was a big fan—”

“Just click play,” the man said, and Rick could hear the contained sigh.

“Ok.” He made a zipping motion on his lips and pressed play.

It all happened in a second.

They were midway through the song when the barista, never the nimblest of men, tripped over a shabby and overstuffed satchel sticking out from under a nearby table — oh, that was Rick’s table, and Rick’s satchel. Rick barely had time to register a horrified shout before a scalding cup of hot coffee was sailing towards his face.

Rick froze. His life flashed before his eyes. He’d be blinded. He’d be scarred. People would point and laugh and no one would want to buy his CDs.

By chance or hand of destiny, the psychopath coffee drinker lurched forward, and with one hand he swiped the coffee out of the air, drenching his arm and sending the cup spinning like a top across their table.

Rick gaped, eyes growing wide. “Man, you… you just saved my life!” The man, his paled face twisted into a grimace, only nodded. “Dude, that was cool. Are you like, a ninja?” Again, the answer was a pained, guttural sound as the man tried to wipe the coffee from his arm with the table cloth.

Rick frowned, leaning over to take a look at his arm, and yeah, ouch, that burn looked... very bad. Rick didn’t know shit about medical terms but he knew this didn’t look good. And it was his fault. Crap. Good going, Jones!

“Uh,” Rick stammered, “are you good, man?”

The man’s attention seemed to have turned to the chipped cup on the table, which had done another mess in itself, while the barista was desperately trying to control the situation on the ground with a towel.

“SMASH. CUP!” The man yelled, and brought his uninjured hand down on the innocent drinkware, instantly shattering it.

“Alright, uh,” Rick stammered, “let’s get you outside, okay?” Rick grabbed the man’s arms as he continued to punch the cup fragments. He was surprisingly strong. Rick thanked his lucky stars that he’d spent so much time working out these days. If you count running from cops and ill-intentioned kids as working out.

Rick managed to get the man into his car with some struggle, and after a short trip to the hospital, the man appeared to be on the mend. At least he was coherent. As Rick stood up from his uncomfortable waiting room chair to say hello, the man grabbed his shoulder.

“At the café, what happened?” he asked frantically.

“Dude, you were awesome! You took out that coffee cup in mid air. But then you kinda seemed hurt and you kept punching the cup so… I thought I should bring you here. I’m Rick, by the way. Rick Jones.” Rick extended his hand and smiled. The stranger narrowed his eyes, and looked from his face to his hand, then back to his face.

“Well.” He scratched the back of his neck. Rick felt stupid for holding his hand out for over ten seconds, but soon the man sighed, shaking Rick’s hand. “I’m Bruce. Doctor Bruce Banner.”

“Rad!” Rick said, and nodded enthusiastically. “Can I call you ‘doc’?”

“Uh, sure…?”

“Cool, doc! I’m kind of not used to people like, karate chopping coffee out of mid-air for me. Or like, doing anything for me. Because who cares about me, Rick Jones, you know?” _Oh no, I'm babbling._

“Ok, if you could do me a favor and just... breathe,” Bruce said, gingerly patting his shoulder.

“I just. I really appreciate it, man.” Rick glanced down to Bruce’s arm. “So you need a lift somewhere? I have a car.”

Bruce frowned. “That’d be nice. Thank you.”

“No problem at all! We could even hang later!”

“Hang?” Bruce seemed alarmed.

“Yeah! Like, hang out. Like… I don’t know, eat or something. I know, let’s go buy you new clothes! I mean, I don’t really have enough money, or like, any money, so you’d be buying, but, y’know, details.”

“Let’s just get your car,” Bruce said.

“Ok, ok.” Despite everything, Rick couldn’t help but smile. As they walked down the hallway, he asked, “So, what’d you think of my soundcloud?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry if there were any mistakes... I fell a bit behind schedule.
> 
> ([tumblr](https://meolchinas.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/TimmerTams))


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